


whatever here that's left of me is yours

by mindelan



Series: tumblr prompts [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindelan/pseuds/mindelan
Summary: “You don’t want me with you,” she grits out, words stilted and lurching. “If you did, you would be taking me. So there must be something wrong. With me. That’s why.”“Jyn,” he says quietly. “Do you really think I could ever replace you?”Her silence is the answer to that.(a prompt collection.)





	1. meeting the family

**Author's Note:**

> for anonymous on tumblr, who asked: "Rebelcaptain: pregnancy or kid fic? Or of that isn’t your jam Jyn or Cassian training... with each other or other people? Idk. Love your writing.”

“Uncle Cass! Aunt Jyn!” 

Before Finn’s even able to get out of the shuttle, Poe pushes past him and races across the hangar bay, engulfing two unfamiliar figures in a giant bear hug. 

Finn stands at the top of the ramp awkwardly, unsure of what to do. It’s the first time the three of them have gone on an _official_ mission for the Resistance before – and there’s _nothing_ in the mission prep that tells him what to do when their commanding officer sprints off. 

“Rey!” he calls out. “You done?”

“Almost!” Rey shouts from somewhere inside the ship. When a crash echoes and a muffled _“I’m okay!”_ resonates back, Finn has to bite his cheeks to stop from laughing. He truly no idea what she’s doing even though she’d tried to explain it to him more than once. Probably something Jedi-related – he’s seen her twirling around her lightsaber like a baton when she thinks no one is looking. 

In a few seconds, she comes careening around a corner, nearly bumping into him. “Sorry,” she pants as Finn raises his hands to steady her. There’s a spot of oil on her forehead that hadn’t been there before. “Are we late? Where’s Poe?”

Finn points over to where the three figures were standing. “Ran off as soon as landed.” 

Rey squints, leaning forward on the balls of her feet, trying to get a better look. “Who – “ 

Her eyes light up in recognition, and she reaches out to snatch Finn’s hand, dragging him forward. 

“Wait, Peanut, _what_ –– “ 

“I _know_ them!” she says excitedly, pulling him behind her. “I’ve heard the stories, Finn! I didn’t know that they were on base, or that Poe knew them!” 

Poe’s talking animatedly with the couple when Rey and Finn arrive, so Finn takes a moment to study them. The woman is short, but doesn’t look in tiny or vulnerable in any way. There’s scars on her face, grey streaking her brown hair, and she holds herself as if she’s endured a lifetime of fighting.

The man at her side seems looser, more relaxed. He has an arm draped around the woman’s shoulder, holding her to his side. However, there’s a look in his eyes and a tenseness to his position that Finn recognizes. The man is much more dangerous than his outer appearance would suggest. 

The man trails off, cocking his head to the side. “Are you going to introduce us to your friends, _mijo_?” 

Poe turns around, a look of confusion etched across his face until he sees Rey and Finn. He grabs each of their arms, hauling the two of them forward. “This is Rey and Finn,” he says. “Rey, Finn, this is my – “ 

“You’re Jyn Erso,” Rey’s quick to interrupt, looking starstruck. Finn has no idea who’s she’s talking about, glancing between the two. “And you’re – you’re Cassian Andor, aren’t you?” 

“That’s Captain Erso to you, kid,” the woman – Jyn – retorts with a raised eyebrow. 

“Aunt Jyn!” Poe groans, tilting his head back. 

“Your aunt is just kidding, _mijo,_ ” Cassian says, nudging Jyn in the ribs gently with his elbow. “Right?” 

“You _wish_ I was kidding,” she grumbles, but there’s a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. 

“She’s kidding,” Poe assures Rey and Finn, but none of this has diminished the absolute awe in Rey’s eyes. 

“It’s nice to meet you two,” Cassian says. The look in his eyes makes Finn feel as if he’s gazing into Finn’s soul, and he shudders, resisting the urge to take a step back. This is Poe’s uncle, he reminds himself, even if he _is_ kinda scary. “I didn’t know Poe had any friends. He’s always alone when he comes to visit us.” 

That makes Finn crack a grin, especially as Poe groans once again and places a hand on his forehead. “You’re killing me, Uncle Cass!” 

“Someone needs to knock you down a few pegs,” Jyn says affectionately, then pokes him in the ribs. “Are you eating enough? You’re all so kriffing skinny.”

“The food here is much better than it was on Jakku,” Rey pipes in. “Most of the time, I just ate _bugs_ – “ 

“All right,” Poe says loudly, cutting Rey off. Finn sighs, thankful; he knows that once Rey gets going on this particular topic, she’ll be listing her favorite bugs to eat for the next _hour_. “We have to go debrief. You’ll be here after, right?” 

“Mhm,” Cassian agrees. “We promised your uncle we’d stick around for a couple days. Check up on things.” 

“You better come back when you’re done,” Jyn tells them firmly. “All three of you. I want to know all of the embarrassing things that Poe’s done in the last year.” 

“That might be hard, ma’am,” Finn says, before Poe throws his arm over his shoulder and begins to wheel him and Rey away. “There’s a lot to tell you.” 

The sound of Jyn’s laughter and Cassian’s quiet chuckle fills his ears as he leaves the room, and in that moment, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face, ducking his head to hide it. 

 

“You know,” Cassian says conversationally, pressing a kiss to the top of Jyn’s head. “For two people who didn’t want kids of their own, we sure seem to be collecting a lot of them.” 

Jyn groans, knowing he’s absolutely right.


	2. worrying himself sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous on tumblr asked: "i love ur ficlets!! If ur still taking rebelcaptain prompts- can you do something fluffy where cassian literally worries himself sick?? thank u <33"

“Cassian? Mhm – you okay in there?” 

Jyn’s voice drifts in from underneath the ‘fresher door, slightly muffled by the thick durasteel separating them. Even though she’s not far away, just sitting on their bed with her bad leg propped up on a couple pillows, Cassian can barely hear her over the roaring of blood in his ears. 

He groans softly, pressing his cheekbone harder against the cool porcelain of the toilet, staring down at the remains of his lunch. At this angle, with his face tilted downward, gravity allows for a couple to tears to slide out of the corner of his eye and onto the bowl. 

At least Jyn can’t see him now and call his bluff – he’s _not_ okay. Not as bad as her, with an old break re-injured on their past mission, but not in good shape. He’d been fine until he’d helped her from the medbay back to their room, but once he’d seen her on their bed, pale yet still arguing with him, wanting to get moving and do something, that had – 

He takes a deep breath, glad that the fan’s on. It’s humming hides exactly what he’s doing here; though Jyn knows something’s up, he doubts that she knows he’d just emptied out the contents of his stomach seconds ago. 

[[MORE]]

Stars, the image of her ankle cracking underneath her plays over and over in his mind. She’d crumpled to the ground in front of him and he’d had to carry her the rest of the way to their ship. 

She insists that she’s fine, but that’s just how she is. The medics had told her to stay off of her feet for a couple days to let the bones heal properly, but she’s already going against their orders, trying to walk back without any assistance. The fact that she would willingly _cripple_ herself instead of accepting help makes him sick with worry. 

He’s seen bad injuries before, but has never reacted like this – throwing up and crying because of stress.  He just – he just loves her so much, and the thought of her hurting herself further sends him spiraling. 

While he knows that she can take care of herself, he still wants to protect her – but how is he supposed to protect her from herself?

Before he responds, he takes a few moments to clean up and compose himself, not wanting to worry her. He pushes himself up to his feet, wiping away the moisture from the corners of his eyes. “I’m fine, Jyn,” he calls out, flushing the toilet as he moves to the sink, splashing water on his face to try and reduce the puffiness. “Be right out.” 

Vaguely, he hears her make a discontented noise. “If you’re not out in a minute, I’m coming in there.” 

That spurs him into action; the image of Jyn getting out of bed and hobbling on her bad ankle (medics be damned) makes the nausea rise up in his gut once again. 

“Cassian…” 

He flips off the fan and opens the door, letting out a relieved sigh when he sees her, brows furrowed yet still in bed. At the sight of him, her face softens, features shifting into something more concerned. “You look like you just got trampled by a herd of bantha.” 

“I’m fine,” he brushes off of her comment with a wave of a hand, all too aware of his red eyes and the pallor of his skin. “How’s your leg? Do you need more painkillers?” 

When she sits up, he’s immediately at her side, ready to insist that she needs to rest, to lay back down. However, she beats him to it, cutting him off with a shake of her head. “ _Stop._ You’re not. Don’t think I didn’t hear you in the ‘fresher.” 

He sighs, knowing what’s coming next. “Jyn, I’m _fine_.” 

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” she says, reaching up to stroke his cheek tenderly. “Let me take care of you for a few hours.” 

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” he replies evenly, eyes flicking down toward where her leg is propped up. “I’m not the one with the fractured ankle.” 

Her eyes flash with something he can’t place. “My fractured ankle will feel a lot better if you laid down next to me.” 

She doesn’t even give him time to respond, tugging him down next to her, cradling him in her arms. He feels himself relaxing despite himself, feeling immensely comforted just being next to her. 

 _It’s all going to be okay. It_ has _to be._

 “I know I’m not the best patient,” she murmurs into his hair, running her fingers up and down his back. “But thank you for taking care of me anyway. No one’s ever – done this for me before.” 

And that makes all this worth it, he thinks, closing his eyes and burrowing deeper in her embrace. The sickness, the nausea, the general worry and stress – it’s all worth it if it makes her feel loved.


	3. undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anonymous on tumblr: "Jyn going on a undercover mission alone for a few months"

“Hey, Cass,” Jyn yawns, running a hand through her messy hair, disheveled by sleep. The holo-recorder next to her blinks every so often, the soft, red light on the monitor contrasting with the harsh fluorescents on the overhead fixture. “Mhm. It’s pretty early in the morning right now. Chrono says about 0400 hours, but it feels earlier.” 

She stretches her arms over her head and then rolls onto her stomach, burying her face into her pillow. Her next words are mumbled into the fabric, probably unintelligible, but she knows Cassian’ll find it endearing at the least. “Yesterday was hard. I don’t know why it felt so different, but it did. I didn’t sleep much last night.” 

The assignment involves her going undercover in a coal mine. The work’s back-breaking and grueling, but that’s not what’s proving troublesome. The physical labor is reminiscent of what she had to do on Wobani, and the way the Imperial overseers look down on the miners is the frosting on top of the kriffing cake. Every morning, she reminds herself that she only has a month left observing and collecting data on the activities of the Empire here, but the trauma of her past is slowly creeping up on her. 

The only way she’s managed to retain a semblance of sanity is through her daily voice memos to Cassian, and listening to his responses every night before she goes to bed. It’s not much – when she gets back to Hoth, she knows it’ll be awhile before she feels like herself again – but it’s enough, for now. 

It’s enough because it has to be. If she cracks, if she breaks, the mission will be a failure. She needs some semblance of normality if she’s going to make it through the next few weeks. 

“I think my skin’s pretty stained from all this kriffing soot,” she tells him as she forces herself out of bed. “I know I’ve said this before, but I really wish I had a shower with real water. There’s no way this cover would be able to afford it, but stars, Cass…” she chuckles softly. “I really miss the shower in our quarters. It’s going to take me _years_ to wash this off.” 

She pauses, then adds with a wry smile – even though she knows he won’t see it, “You’ll have to help me, of course. It’ll take a lot of scrubbing. And I mean _a lot_.” Good thing he knows how to use his hands properly; that’ll speed things up a bit. 

“Got the same routine again today. I think I might try to get into the medical bay, get some intel there. I’m planning on collapsing, which won’t be hard considering how tired I am.” 

Tugging her shirt over her head and pulling on a new one, she begins to get ready for the day ahead of her, still speaking out-loud to herself. While there’s no reason for it, she hopes no one’s bugging her room; if they ever went back and look at the data, they’d probably think she’s kriffing insane. 

“Maybe if I’m lucky, they’ll let me rest for a couple hours. I mean, I doubt Imperial medics are any less of hardasses as the overseers are, but a girl can dream.” 

As she goes to pull her pants up, she winces as her hands tighten, the pressure of the motion breaking and exacerbating some of her new and opened blisters. Her hands are hardly soft and unworked, but mining for coal with a pickaxe for twelve hours a day has really done a number on her. It’s not a detail she’s told Cassian, though. He doesn’t need to know the little things, doesn’t need to worry about minor grievances.

She’s strong. She’ll get through this. 

Jyn stays silent while she does her hair, tying it into her signature low-bun, then secures her cap on over it. She very nearly collapses on her bed to put her boots on, wishing that she could just crawl back underneath the covers and fall back into unconsciousness. 

“I know whatever mission you’re on is probably much more classified than mine is, but,” she chews on her upper lip, “can you just let me know if you’re safe? I know you’ll never tell me if you’re injured, but the reminder that you’re still alive helps. Your messages have been getting shorter lately, and I know that’s probably for a whole bunch of unrelated reasons I don’t know about, but I’m worried. Let me know you’re not dying in an alleyway somewhere. Please, Cassian.” 

That’s an extreme example, but it’s where her brain goes in the middle of the night, spiraling deeper and deeper into the worst case scenarios. 

She stands up, adjusting her clothes as she does, glancing in the mirror to make sure she looks the part she needs to play. “I’ve got to go,” she says. “My shift starts in a couple minutes. I love you, Cassi. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Stay safe.” 

With that, she turns off the holo-recorder and plugs it into her datapad. It takes a few seconds for the file to upload; as soon as it does, she sends it Cassian’s way. She slides both devices back into the secret drawer underneath her bed, then heads toward the door with a small smile on her face, flipping the lights off as she goes. 

She can do this. 


	4. meeting the parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anonymous on tumblr: "hi! if ur still taking rebelcaptain prompts - can you write cassian's first meeting with jyn's parents? or vice versa?"

Jyn’s not _stupid_ – she knows Cassian’s parents are dead.

She’d figured it out pretty early in their relationship, just as she’s sure he did the same about her past (misery recognizes misery, after all), but had kept quiet about her realizations until he had come to her to talk. When he’d proposed a trip to Mexico to show her where he grew up, she’d figured they’d be visiting his family. 

She just hadn’t thought she’d be so _nervous_ about it. 

Cassian tugs her forward toward a pair of unassuming, slightly chipped headstones. The grass around them is manicured and neat; she knows that he doesn’t come from money. but it’s clear to her that this area is well-taken care of. When he steps forward, she lets go of his hand and watches as he runs his fingers lovingly over the stone. The sight only makes her clutch the bouquet of flowers tighter to her chest, white-knuckled grip nearly breaking the stems in half. 

“Jyn,” he starts stiltedly, “I’d like you to meet my parents. Mamá, Papá,” his throat works oddly, “this is Jyn. My girlfriend.” 

At that, she walks to him and reaches out for his hand once again. He doesn’t look at her, instead staring down at the twin headstones. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you,” she says, then clears her throat. “I, uh – I brought you flowers.” 

She doesn’t know what to do – she’s never visited her parents, never really got over the anger she feels for them even after their deaths. Awkwardly, she places the bouquet near the graves, wincing at how they look. They had _definitely_ looked a lot better when she’d first bought them. 

“C’mere,” he says, tugging her down, and she moves to sit cross-legged next to him, leaning into his chest when he wraps an arm around her shoulder. When he speaks, she can feel how his words vibrate from where her ear is pressed against his skin. 

“I wish you were here to meet her in person,” he says, a touch sadly. “You would love her. She is…” he kisses the top of her head, smiling against her hair. “ _Ella es mi vida_.” 

Jyn reaches over and interlaces the fingers on his free hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles in a soothing gesture. 

And _then_ – 

She doesn’t get surprised easily, never has, but what Cassian says next has her stiffening in shock. 

“She’s the woman I want to marry one day.” 

She glances over at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, because they’ve never talked about marriage, never talked much about a future between them. While she doesn’t have any intentions of breaking up with him, expects for them to continue dating – she hasn’t given any thought to _marriage._

“Cass – “ 

Fucking hell, there’s a ring in his hand. There’s a fucking ring in his hand and they’re sitting in a cemetery in front of his parents and he’s fucking proposing –

“Hey,” he cups a hand on her cheek and she looks up sharply, not even realizing that her breathing has gone shallow and her eyes unfocused. “I know this is unconventional, but I…I wanted them to be here, for this. They’ve missed so much of my life that this,” he gestures between them, “it feels right.” 

She continues staring at him until he rushes to say, “This isn’t – right, I get it, you probably don’t want to and that’s fine, I know we’ve never talked about it , I know, and – “ 

“Cass,” she interrupts, voice strangled, choking on a laugh. “You haven’t _asked_ me anything yet, you idiot.” 

“Right,” he murmurs, cheeks tinging pink. “Will you marry me, Jyn?” 

She pretends to think it over. “Well, if this is the best offer I’m going to get – “ 

He rolls his eyes, adjusting his weight, but smiles despite himself. “ _Jyn_.” 

Leaning forward to kiss him, she whispers against his lips, “Yes.” 

It’s good that his parents are here for this. 


	5. chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anonymous on tumblr: "Chocolate 🍫 rebelcaptain"

“Hey, babe?” Cassian asks, toeing the door to their apartment open, hands full of groceries. The apartment’s quiet, which hopefully means that Jyn’s asleep and not puking into the toilet like she’d been an hour ago. “You doing okay?” 

From his position at the entrance, he can see her hand wave lazily at him from over the back of the couch. “I’m alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” she croaks as he walks over to her side, looking pale and flushed, face covered in sweat. 

“Did you get the heating pad working?” he kneels on the floor at her side, pushing back her hair from her forehead, caressing her face with gentle hands. 

“Mhm,” she grunts, curling farther in on herself. 

“It’s not too hot?” When he sniffs the air, he can vaguely make out the smell of something burning. “Kinda smells like – “ 

“It’s fine,” she brushes him off, smiling faintly though her eyes remained closed, tension wrinkling her forehead, fine lines between her eyebrows. “Can’t feel the pain if my uterus is on fire.” 

Cassian makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want any painkillers?” 

“They make my head feel fuzzy,” she whines, “and I still have to work on my dissertation tonight.” 

By the looks of her, he doubts she’ll be doing much more than laying on the couch, but he knows better than to argue with her. He hums, stroking her face absently. “All right,” he murmurs. “No meds.” 

At that, she relaxes, cracking open an eye to peer at him. “Did you get my tampons?” 

“Yeah,” he says, rifling through the bags lying on the floor, forgotten in the presence of her. “They didn’t have the brand you liked, but a clerk said these were similar.” He hands over the package, tips of his ears reddening. “I can run out again if they’re not okay.” 

She shushes him, reaching up to tug him down by the lapel of his shirt and kissing him. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbles against his lips, still sounding vaguely out of it from the pain. “They’re perfect. Thank you, Cassi.” 

Even after years of dating her, he’s still not used to the sheer amount of affection he feels for her – how each kiss makes his heart want to burst, how each touch feels electric on his skin. 

He’s struck, not for the first time, with the realization of how much he’s willing to do for her. It’s hardly embarrassing asking a salesperson about tampons; that’s _nothing_. If she needs him to, he’ll buy up the world’s stock of sanitary supplies just for her. 

_(and they say romance is dead.)_

“Got you something else, too,” he tells her, amusement dancing in his eyes. “A present.” 

“Give it to me,” she orders, and he has to laugh at her sternness. Jyn’s never been one to enjoy surprises. 

With that, he pulls out a bar of chocolate and hands it to her, loving the way her eyes light up at the sight of it. “How did you get this?” she asks incredulously. “They _discontinued_ these!” 

“They brought them back for Valentine’s Day,” he says, shifting to show her the other bags on the floor behind him. “Limited edition. I thought I’d stock up before they were gone.” 

If he were a poet, he’d say there were stars in her eyes. “I don’t – “ she starts, and shakes her head. “I don’t deserve you, Cass. _Stars._ ” 

“’course you do,” he says easily, leaning over and opening the wrapping for her. He knows she has a tendency to horde things special to her like this, to save them for important times. It’s a result of her meager childhood. But the last thing he wants her to do now is put the chocolate aside, especially when she’s craving something sweet. “C’mon – eat up, babe.” 

She cracks off the top half of the chocolate, pushes it in his hands. “We’ll share it,” she insists. “I can’t eat all of this by myself.” 

She definitely can – he’s seen just how much she can consume in one sitting – but he takes the proffered sweet with a smile, biting off the top portion of it with his front teeth. He teases, “Can’t believe it’s taken you this long to learn how to share.” 

“Shove off,” she mumbles, mouth full of chocolate, lips and chin stained. “I’m a fucking gift.” 

He chuckles. “You are, babe. Trust me.” 


	6. "you're an alliance asset, you are expendable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anonymous on tumblr, who prompted: "You're an Alliance asset, you are expendable."
> 
> sorry about the wait!

Jyn barges into his quarters with rage in her eyes and venom on her lips, mouth opening before the door fully closes and he’s barely registered her presence standing in front of him, chest heaving and looking as if she could destroy the universe with just a single glance.

_“What am I to you?”_  

Cassian blinks up at her from where he’s sitting at his desk, setting the datapad down on the flat surface and focusing all of his attention on her. Something’s bothering her, but he doesn’t know what; she’d left their bed this morning in a relatively good mood, excusing herself to an early morning briefing and letting him sleep an extra hour or two. 

( _though it’s not like he ever finds peace when she’s not curled up next to him, but that’s besides the point._ )

“Jyn, what – “ 

He watches as her nails curl into her palms, the leather of her gloves the only thing stopping the sharp ends from cutting into her skin, leaving more marks on her already scarred body. He wants to reach out, to hold her hands in his and stop her from hurting herself like this, but he doesn’t want to risk touching her in this state, not without her consent. 

“What _am_ I, Cassian?” she growls out, taking another step forward. “Who the hell am I to you? Am I just – “ 

She cuts herself off, biting down on her lip, hard. Anger, grief, desperateness – it all passes over her face and she turns her head away from him so he can’t see her emotions. 

His heart breaks. _Oh, Jyn,_ he wants to tell her, _you never have to hide yourself from me. Never from me._

“Jyn,” he entreats softly, “look at me.” 

“Not until you answer my question.” 

He doesn’t understand the point of it, not yet, but it’s clear that there’s a lot hanging on what he has to say. He chooses his words very carefully. “You are everything to me.” 

“And to the Alliance?” 

His stomach churns. “Look at me,” he repeats firmly, pushing his chair back and standing up. As much as he wants to hook a finger underneath her chin and move her face toward his, he’s not going to force her. “Jyn, look at me. Please.” 

The air feels weighted, heavy, pressing on his shoulders as if he’s holding up the entire planet on them. Jyn blinks, parts her mouth slightly to let a stream of air out, and slowly, so slowly, centers her head and her gaze back to him. She’s not staring exactly at his face, instead at a spot right over his head, but it’s likely the best he’s going to get for now. 

“Did someone say something to you about your role here?” he asks. It’s his turn to clench his hands into fists; he’s never been violent, doesn’t want to start any fights, but the urge to knock someone’s teeth in on Jyn’s behalf rises up in his throat. 

(Not that he thinks she can’t take care of herself. No, he just wants to get a swing in before she utterly destroys the bastard.) 

“No,” she grits out, pulling the answer out from her mouth as if the action pains her.

“You can tell me if they did,” he encourages, knowing how hard this is for her, _especially_ for her. “You don’t have to give me specifics. I…I just want to help. You can trust me, Jyn.” 

Her eyes dart towards the door, as if she’s checking to ensure that her path to escape isn’t obstructed. “I. Overheard recruits talking,” she starts stiltedly, rocking back on her heels. “This morning.” 

“What did they say.” It isn’t a question, almost a flat-out order. Gossip is common nowadays, with Rogue One usually at the center of it, but it had never seemed to affect Jyn in the way it does now. What’s changed? Whatever she’d heard…

She shifts her weight, glances down. “Cass, it’s no big deal –– “ 

“You came in here, accusing me of –– of _what_ , Jyn?” he questions, but it’s not harsh, not angry. “Don’t tell me it’s _nothing_ when I know you’re lying. You can’t just – just ask what you are to me as if you’re…” he trails off, running his hands through his hair, messing up the once smooth strands.

“Do you think I’m expendable?” she says quietly, and the words nearly knock him back a couple steps, the air escaping from his lungs. “ _Do you?_  Are you –– is this all some sort of Intelligence thing? Letting me sleep here next to you, sitting with me at meals, _fucking_ me,” he voice cracks, eyes closing to hide the pain reflecting deep inside of them. “I need to know, Cassian. _I need to know._ ” 

The hurt hits him sharply, like a whip crack to the chest. How could she think so little of him? That he’s only doing this to further the cause? Self-hatred runs deep in his veins, telling him that he’s nothing except a spy, that he’ll do anything for the Rebellion, that he has no morals, that he’s – 

“Cassian?” 

Her small voice startles him, the sound so unlike anything he’s used to hearing out of Jyn. 

“Do you really think so little of me?” he asks sharply, disbelief plain in his voice. 

Her eyes shoot up, and she finally – _finally!_ – looks him in the eye. “What?” 

Cassian laughs coldly, shaking his head, angling his body away from her. “How could you not see that everything I do for you is out of love? You’re here because I want you to be, Jyn, not because of my kriffing sense of duty! I don’t feel like I owe you or any of that bantha-shit! I know I’m not the most trustworthy person on this damn base, but stars, Jyn!” he looks at her. “I thought you’d believe my words over those of some stupid recruits!” 

“I…” she trails off, then sets her jaw, looking at him determinedly. “I _had_ to know. I’m sorry, but I had…I had to hear you say it. To see you,” she swallows, waving her hand at him, “like this. I had to know that it was real.” 

He’s not going to lie – her words sting. Intentionally or not, Jyn’s hurt him. But he knows that she’s in pain too, and her questions and accusations come from a past of abandonment and misery. He can’t hold it against her, especially not when she looks so damn sad right now. 

Sighing, he reaches out to her, arms wide. “Come here.” 

Surprisingly, she comes without complaint, letting him wrap her in his embrace. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, lips moving against the top of her head, “that I wasn’t clear enough in how much I care for you.” 

She clings to his shirt as if he’s a lifeline, as if he’s the only thing keeping her from drowning. “I’m sorry, too,” she mumbles against his chest. “I shouldn’t have – I knew, but I needed to hear you say it.” 

“I understand,” he says, because he does, but – “Just don’t – let’s not go through this again, hm?” 

“I won’t,” she promises. “I know I’m not very good at this, but…I won’t. I swear.” 

He believes her. 


	7. best in the rebellion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anonymous on tumblr, who asked: "Prompt if your still taking them for rebelcaptain Jyn despite her small stature and general recklessness can drink almost anyone under the table and play a mean game of dejarik."

“M’name’s Jyn Erso,” Jyn announces triumphantly, only slightly slurring her words and holding her drink up over her head, “an’ I’m the best in the Rebellion!” 

There would be more cheers if her audience hadn’t all been in various states of unconsciousness. 

Best at what, exactly, Cassian doesn’t know. He’s only just walked in to witness his girlfriend swaying precariously on top of a dejarik table, barely able to understand what she’s saying. It’s a good thing he’s arrived when he did; as soon as she’s done, she steps back, nearly falling off of the table if not for his steadying hands keeping her upright. 

“Easy there, hotshot,” he teases, wrapping his hands around her waist and gently lifting her the wobbling game table. She falls back into chest, doing nothing to help him, and he grunts slightly underneath her weight as he places her down. Jyn is by no means heavy, but with the implants in his back, he’s not supposed to be carrying anything that might strain them. 

He’ll keep this one a secret from his physical therapists. 

“Cass!” she exclaims once she gets a good look at who’s holding, turning around and throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re here!” 

“I am,” he agrees with a chuckle. “Bodhi called me. He said you were cheating and wanted me to ‘collect you.’” 

Honestly, he’s surprised that Bodhi had been able to sound even half-coherent on his comm; now, the pilot’s collapsed over the table with his head pillowed on Luke Skywalker’s arm. 

“I never cheat,” she argues back, which is a boldfaced lie. He’s quite impressed that she’s even bothering to _try –_ all of them have caught her cheating more than once during dejarik. Still, she wins more than she loses, and he knows that she has tricks that no one even knows about. 

A card falls out of her sleeve. He chooses not to comment on it. 

“Bodhi cheats more than I do,” she continues, pulling back so she can point an accusing finger in his direction. “He’s just mad that he was losing. That’s why he called you.” 

Mock hurt passes over his face, and he has to struggle to keep his amusement hidden. “That’s the only reason?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, eyes dancing. “He _only_ called me because you were cheating?” 

“Wasn’t cheating,” she mutters, pointedly ignoring what he’d said, then busies herself with tugging her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, toying at the strands. 

He pauses, waiting for more.

“Maybe wanted to kiss you a little bit,” she says finally – and, true to her word, she does, pressing a sloppy one to the side of his neck. 

Cassian chuckles quietly. “Bodhi might have said something about that, too.” It had been more along the line of ‘ _hey, captain, your girlfriend won’t stop talking about how nice your mouth is so please stop doing paperwork because she wants to leave and i need her credits,_ ’ but that equates to roughly the same thing in his eyes. 

“C’mon,” he says gently. “Let’s get you to bed. Sleep off all this alcohol, hmm?” 

“Will you lay with me?” she asks, having seemingly forgotten that the two of them share both quarters and a bed. “I missed you.” 

While he wants to argue that he hadn’t been gone for very long, only two days, he’d felt the same. Spending any amount of time away from Jyn isn’t ideal, especially when he knows she tends to get a little reckless when he’s not here to temper her impulses. 

(More than usual, anyway. She’s _plenty_ reckless even with him at her side.)

“Of course,” he tells her, kissing the side of her head. “Of course I’ll lay with you.” 


	8. hostage situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anonymous on tumblr, who asked: "Jyn and Cassian are cops, they've been partners for a few years nothing more (everybody but them see's that they're not "just partners") until Jyn is taken hostage." 
> 
> sorry for the wait on this one folks, but now that "when the meaning's gone" is finished, i have more time to get prompt requests done!

Cassian’s body thrums with nervous energy as he kicks down door after door, bad leg tiring with the effort but never stopping. Sheer desperation keeps him going, overriding the tiredness in his limbs and the plea of his body to slow down and take a break. There’s sweat on his forehead and blood on his skin, but he can’t feel it; the only thing on his mind right now is Jyn. 

Since he’s technically the higher ranking officer in their partnership (’technically’ mainly because Jyn does whatever the fuck she wants), he’s taking full responsibility for her capture. They’d been investigating a drug trafficking ring just yesterday, and when one of them had triggered the alarms, she’d taken the fall so he could escape. 

It’s only been a few hours since she’d been taken, but he hasn’t slept since. The amount of caffeine and adrenaline running through his veins right now is probably enough to kill him, but he doesn’t care. The consequences of these actions can be dealt with later, when Jyn is safe and back with him. 

He cares about her. Not in the way Kay and Bodhi and Kes and Shara all say he does, but – he cares about her. It’s normal to care this much about a partner, he argues, ignoring their knowing smiles and amused glances. 

How much he cares about her is _normal_. 

As the number of room possibilities shrinks as he climbs the building, his worry grows. The voices of his fellow officers shrink in the background; he can’t hear anything except for his blood hammering in his ears. At this point, he’s practically gone rogue – if they told him to give up on his search for Jyn, he would ignore them and keep going. That isn’t their call to make, not when it’s his partner on the line. 

 “Where are you, Jyn?” he growls to himself, knocking in yet another door, gun raised as he scans the room for enemies. It’s completely empty, bare of anything except for a few bloodstains in the corner that have his heart clenching in fear. He exhales heavily in frustration, turning away – 

until a discolored wall panel catches his attention, a flash of warm in a sea of dark brown wood. 

Rushing to the scene, he resists the urge to claw at it with his fingernails, to rip it off the wall and figure out what’s behind there. Instead, he forces himself to take a deep breath, running his fingers along the seam until he finds a small divot, a crack in the foundation. 

Breathe. 

He slams his shoulder into the wood, not caring if the sound alerts an enemy in the nearby vicinity. The panel heaves, but doesn’t give, not until he rams into it once again and it splints around him. 

“Jyn!” he calls out softly, ducking his head to fit into the small space. It’s a narrow doorway leading into a dark, pitch-black room; he squints, blinking rapidly to make his eyes adjust quicker, searching desperately for his partner in the hidden area. 

A scratch of metal against wood, then a quiet, creaky, _familiar_ voice – “Cassian?” 

“Jyn!” he says again, rushing forward and falling to his knees in front of her. He can barely make out her form, but he can see that she’s tied to a chair, rope wrapped around her wrists and ankles. Her pale face is mottled with bruises, the dark marks making his blood boil with rage, and she’s been stripped down to her bra and underwear. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” 

“I’m fine,” she tells him weakly, her head falling forward. She’s comfortable with him, he can tell by the way she doesn’t try to hide her weaknesses nor put on a strong face. “Just bruised.” 

He doesn’t try to contradict her – because how could she be fine after hours of captivity, trapped in a dark, small room when he knows how those two things trigger the worst of her memories? – but instead focuses on cutting through the room that’s keeping her down. 

When he severs the ties on her arms, she exhales in relief, nearly falling forward and cradling her hands to her chest. Cassian reaches forward tenderly, running his fingers over the skin there, feeling old scar tissue and new abrasions alike. 

“Don’t,” Jyn bites out but there’s no anger in her voice. Out of all of her scars, she’s most ashamed of the shackle cuffs around her wrists, a reminder of her criminal background that she’s never quite been able to get away from even years later. “I’m fine.” 

As much as he wants to say something – _anything_ – he doesn’t know what would make the situation better. Instead, he shrugs out of his jacket and offers it to her, letting her be the one to take it and shrug it on so her skin is no longer on display to the prying eye. 

The sight of her in his jacket makes him pause completely, staring at her in complete – complete _awe_ until her voice cuts through his haze. “Get me out of these things, Cassian.” 

He nods jerkily, then unties her ankles in complete silence. Once he’s done, he looks up at her, blinking away the emotion in his eyes. “Jyn, I – “ 

She pushes herself up and out of the chair, looking down at him for a couple seconds before offering him a hand to help him up. “I want to get out of here,” she says in lieu of how she’s doing, because it’s clear to him that she’s not fine, not with her shaky legs and shuddering breaths. “Let’s go.” 

Cassian brushes off her hand, choosing to get up himself so he doesn’t drag her back down to the floor. Now that his adrenaline is wearing off, he can begin to feel the pain coursing through his body. He’s just as eager to get out of here as she is, but he catches her hand before she can leave. “I’m glad you’re okay, Jyn.” His voice is husky, low. 

“Yeah, well,” her gaze darts away from him, shifting to the floor. “I didn’t think you’d – you’d come back.” 

His breath catches when he hears her mutter, squeezing his hand as she nearly drags him out of the room, “I’m better now that you’re here.” 


	9. family matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anonymous on tumblr, who prompted: "Cassian might be crushing on his friend Jyn he's not quite ready to admit more, but his mother/aunt/grandmother/sister (you choose) has other plans One of Cassian's female relations is a big rebelcaptain shipper"

“You like her, don’t you, Uncle Cassi?” 

Cassian makes disgruntled sound in his surprise, twisting his body around to see just who’s butting their neck into his business. 

Ah. Of course. He’s always suspected that his sister’s nosy nature had been passed down to her daughter. 

“Are you supposed to be climbing up there, _mija?_ ” he asks amusedly, taking a sip of his drink and watching his six-year-old niece scramble up a chair and perch on the table he’s leaning against. It doesn’t do much to even the playing field, since she’s a child and he’s, well, _full-grown_ , but it’s about as close as the two of them are going to get. 

“Nope!” Espie replies cheerfully, swinging her feet in the air so intensely that Cassian thinks she’s going to go flying off of the table. “But Mama and Mommy went upstairs so they’re not going to find out.” 

“I could tell them,” he teases. It’s a complete lie, because Espie’s got him wrapped around her little finger and she knows it. Besides, prolonging _this_ conversation will help him avoid the other one she brought up about Jyn. “Then they’ll never leave you alone.”

She hits him with a serious look. “They’re _always_ going upstairs.” 

Well, he can’t fault her for knowing the truth. He’s glad that his sister’s found happiness in her wife, even if it makes his own lack of a love life extremely obvious. 

Hence the current interrogation. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” and yep, too smart for her own good, can’t trick this one. “I think you like Miss Jyn.” 

“Just call her Jyn,” he responds immediately, not intending – though completely aware – to misdirect the conversation. “I think she’ll have an aneurysm if you call her ‘miss.’”

“A what?” 

“An aneurysm. It’s like – a bubble in your blood.” Maybe he should have chosen a different word considering his audience, but hey – he can spin this into a learning experience. “The blood vessel gets weak and blows up like a balloon.” 

Espie nods sagely, like she completely understands what he’s saying. “Next time Mama says she’s going to blow up because she’s eaten too much, I’m going to tell her it’s because she’s having an aneurysm. Like Miss Jyn, who you like.” 

“I do not – “ he starts, then stops, because that’s a lie. He _does_ like Jyn, but in the way that close friends like each other. Platonically. It’s only platonic between them, even though he does think she looks awfully pretty and the other night, he had a pretty vivid dream about – 

No, they’re just friends. That’s normal.

“Jyn and I are just friends,” he tells his niece, watching Jyn from across the room. She’s laughing with Bodhi, her whole smile lighting up the room. He can’t help it – her grin makes him soften, eyes tender as he watches her, infinitely glad that he’d invited the two of them over for dinner to meet his sister’s family. 

“She’s pretty,” Espie observes, tilting her head to the side. 

For some reason, his throat is dry. He swallows. There’s no denying it. “She is.”

“I knew it!” she shrieks, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. “You like her! You want to kiss her!” 

Jyn glances in their direction, pulled from her conversation by the sudden outburst. She mouthes _“you all right?_ ” with a smirk, and laughs when he turns even redder. 

She definitely heard that. _Fuck._

“If you stop talking about Jyn, I’ll let you have an extra slice of cake,” he bargains, letting out a sigh of relief when Espie nods eagerly. He sets down his drink and tugs her gently off the table, watching her sprint to the kitchen to get her prize before her mothers catch her. 

Just as he’s going to follow, he turns back to where Jyn’s sitting. She gives him a little wave, then blows him a kiss with a wiggle of her eyebrows. 

They’re going to have to talk later. 


	10. the tender ache when you press against bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from [carr-crashh-heartss](http://carr-crashh-heartss.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who asked, "37. The tender ache when you press against bruises, please!"

Cassian stretches out his arm, fingers flexing as he stares the appendage. Who’s arm is this? He clenches his palm into a fist, unclenches it, clenches again. It’s doing what he tells it to do, but he doesn’t recognize it. When he traces. . .

Is he real?

His mission hadn’t gone poorly, so he doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this. Ever since he’d pulled the trigger and killed his informant, there’s been an ache in his chest that hasn’t gone away, a lump in the middle of his sternum that pains him with every movement. Each breath he takes stutters in his lungs, stilted and half-hyperventilating, not enough oxygen going to his brain. 

He feels as if he’s in a dream. His limbs are almost completely numb, pins and needles in his fingertips and toes. He doesn’t know how he manages to make it through debrief; his lips move but he doesn’t remember making them, words coming out of his lips but he can’t hear them. All of the sudden, he’s in his bunk and doesn’t know how he’s gotten there. 

_Detached._

_Floating._

_Real?_

As if fighting through a fog, he kicks off his boots onto the floor and collapses onto the bed. He’s so, so tired. The lights are off, but it doesn’t matter – he’s not going to do anything except try to sleep off this haze and hope he feels better when he wakes up. 

(from experience. he knows that he won’t.)

He lays there for what might be minutes, hours, days. When the door opens and light floods into the room, he barely reacts. It’s a testament to how out of it he really is; normally, he’d be up with his gun in his hand before the lock even clicked open. 

He doesn’t move. He’s so tired. He’s not even sure if this is real. For all he knows, he could be in a drug-induced haze locked in an Imperial prison. Even the voice that cuts through the room can’t release him from whatever mental cell he’s trapped himself in. 

_“there is more than one sort of prison, captain. i sense that you carry yours wherever you go.”_

“Cassian? Are you in here?” 

The lights flick on, but he does nothing except squint against the sudden harshness of the fluorescents. And then, with a muffled string of swears, the lights go back off and he sighs into the darkness, unperturbed, unbothered. 

He feels – _fuzzy_. Like the static on a radio when the connection is cut off from one side. 

“Cass? It’s me. Jyn. I didn’t know you were back until a couple minutes ago or else I would have come by sooner…” the voice trails off, the bed dipping slightly under their weight. “Draven was worried, so he called me to check up on you. Funny, huh? That bastard does his best to get me off base but as soon as _you_ need something…” 

The voice continues talking, speaking about inane subjects and mindless topics. It gives him something to latch onto, to tether himself and bring himself out of the fog and back into the present. 

His voice sounds like a croak, crackling and broken. “Jyn?” 

In the darkness, he can just barely make out her sad smile, the way her eyes light up at his recognition. He hates to make her worry like this, to worry about him when she has so much on her plate already. 

“Hey, Cassi,” she murmurs, tucking her legs underneath her body but making no move to reach out to him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit,” he grunts, because it’s true. 

“D’you want to talk about what happened?” 

He shakes his head. “Not now.” He doesn’t know if he’ll ever talk about it, but if he does, it’ll be with her. He stretches out his arm, wanting to feel her warmth against his side. “Lay with me?” 

Like a loth-cat, Jyn takes no time curling into his side, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder. Her weight presses against the fresh bruises littered across his skin, but the feeling isn’t unpleasant. If anything, it helps him stay grounded. 

He’s here. He’s alive. This is real. 


	11. “are you sure you’re not cold?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [cats-and-metersticks](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, who asked: "Rebelcaptain prompt! -- “Are you sure you’re not cold?” + chilly cassian, if you can see it!!"

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” Jyn asks, eyebrows narrowed as she peers at him from underneath the hood of her –  _his_ parka, given to her in an act of misguided chivalry. 

_(It’s fucking freezing out and it’s dark and she should have worn something heavier than her_

_Something plops on her shoulders, startling her out of her thoughts. She jerks up, surprised and immediately on the defensive, only to find Cassian’s coat draped over her shoulders._

_At her questioning look, he shrugs. “I know you need it – “_

_“I don’t need it!”  
_

_“ – and that you would rather freeze to death than ask me for it.”_

_“I would not,” she mutters sullenly, but knows it’s a lie. Her pride won’t let her ever admit a weakness, even a small one like being_ cold _.  
_

_Still, she snuggles into the parka, wrapping it around herself. It smells like him, musty with a hint of spice, and the scent calms her almost immediately. She won’t admit it out loud, but she’s much warmer with it._

_She asks cautiously, “Are you sure you don’t need it?”_

_He bobs his head, a grin on his face likely due to the fact that she hasn’t tried to return his coat yet. “Mexico isn’t hot all the time, you know.”)_

Cassian’s hands are shoved underneath his armpits, his breath puffing out in front of him. Without his coat, the only thing he’s wearing is a grey, thermal long-sleeve shirt. Despite his earlier bluster, he looks _cold_. 

Too bad he has just as much pride as she does. 

“I’m fine, Jyn,” he says, slightly exasperated but smiling all the same. He tucks her underneath his arm, hugging her to his body and leeching some of her warmth. He’s shaking, but just as she opens her mouth to say something about that, he mutters, “Where the hell is the bus?” 

The street is dark, illuminated only by a few street lamps every few feet. Jyn squints down the road, but sees nothing. The bus schedule is, if not anything else, unpredictable. 

“Bodhi’s place is nearby,” she tells him. “We can crash there if it doesn’t come soon.” 

Not that she particularly wants that. It’s not that she doesn’t love her brother – she _does_ – but ever since he’d met Luke, the two of them have been inseparable. Their frequent displays of affection rival Han and Leia’s, and that’s saying something. 

(And yeah, maybe she does want to fuck Cassian in the privacy of their own apartment without worrying her brother might overheard. Sue her.) 

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles, looking absolutely miserable but stalwart all the same, “and then I’m calling a cab.” 

Jyn moves out of his embrace, holding up a finger when he whines in confusion. “C’mere,” she says, once she’s managed to finagle her arms out of the parka and holds the unzipped portion of it out to him. “I’ll keep you warm.” 

“But won’t you be cold?” he asks worriedly, but doesn’t try to push her away when she tugs him down into a hug, arranging the parka around the two of them. Their chests are pressed together, foreheads touching, breaths intermingling. 

“How can I be cold,” she starts, kissing the tip of his (red and freezing) nose, “when I’m with you?” 

“Of all things, Jyn Erso,” he says gravely. “I never would have thought you to be a _sap_.” 

“You asshole,” she mutters fondly, tucking her head into the junction of his neck. “Better?” 

His voice rumbles in his chest. “Much.” 


	12. “do you really think I could ever replace you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from [captainandors](https://captainandors.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who asked: "for those prompts, Rebelcaptain and 102?"

One mission is all it takes. 

One mission where Cassian chooses someone other than Jyn, and she’s already falling to pieces. 

She can’t help but wonder if there’s something wrong with her. Anxieties rise up in her throat, threatening to choke her, cutting off her air. He’s picked her for undercover missions _way_ more complicated than this one – what’s different now? 

As she slouches in the back of the briefing room, legs kicked onto the chair in front of her, she racks her mind for what she could have done wrong on their last mission. It had all gone smoothly – they’d gotten the intel needed with relative ease. Sure, there had been a bit of a scuffle on the way back to the ship, but they’d both escaped with minor injuries. 

And then she remembers how Cassian’s eyes had lingered on the darkening bruise blossoming on her cheek, how he’d probed the bone there and checked for a fracture, how his gaze had darkened when she insisted that she was fine before he hid that away and excused himself to the cockpit, mumbling Festian underneath his breath. 

Her stomach churns. Is that it, then? It must be. Maybe he doesn’t think her fighting skills are up to par if she’s letting ‘troopers get in easy hits. It doesn’t matter that she’s proved herself time and time again – to him, she must not be good enough. 

The thought makes her hands clench in anger. She has to ask herself why she cares. She shouldn’t, she knows. She hadn’t even known Cassian until a few months ago, and yet she finds herself eager for any hint of his approval, like a stray dog begging for scraps. Stars, Saw would be disgusted with her right now; probably is rolling around in his grave right now. 

_“Weak. You can’t depend on other people like that, my child. It will get you killed. The only person you can trust is yourself. Never forget that.”_

When the meeting ends, she’s up and out the door before anyone else. She needs to punch something, preferably a recruit who thinks too highly of themself but most likely a bag. People learned long ago not to get in her way when she’s got fire burning in her eyes, and by how they scramble as she marches through the hallway, it seems that the lesson has properly sunk in. 

She doesn’t want to wrap her hands, so she doesn’t. What’s a bit more blood on her hands? What’s a bit more bruising on her already black and blue knuckles? She doesn’t kriffing care. All she needs is for her mind to stop racing and something to distract her; a bit of pain and the rhythmic pattern of her fists is just the thing she needs. 

It only takes what she thinks is a few minutes for Cassian to come find her. After all, she usually waits for him at the end of these kind of meetings so they can walk together. He’s probably confused, maybe upset that she’d run out on him. 

She doesn’t care. 

“Jyn.” 

She ignores his voice, the sound of the punching bag swinging on its chain enough to block out what he’s saying. _Jab. Jab. Kick._ Already, she’s fallen into a pattern, hitting much harder than she should. Her breath comes in short pants, but she could do this all day. _Jab. Jab –_

“Jyn! Kriffing hell, you’re _bleeding!_ What’s gotten into you?” 

When she goes to kick, Cassian takes the opportunity to grab her by the arm and haul her backwards. The movement knocks her off-balance and she stumbles, only to be caught by his warm chest until she can steady herself. 

She should not enough that small moment of touching him, she tells herself as she steps backwards. She should _not._  

“What do you want?” she snaps.

He reaches for her hands, she pulls away. “What the _kriff_ were you doing?” he shoots back. “Why the hell didn’t you properly wrap your hands? Stars, Jyn, it’s like you _wanted_ to mess yourself up!” 

Maybe she did.

“I need the practice,” she mutters, irritated that he doesn’t immediately understand what’s going on here (despite her not telling him). “You think a ‘trooper is going to stop and let me wrap my hands before they swing at me?” 

“That’s not the point,” he hisses back. “The point is that you’re willingly hurting yourself, and for _what?_  You’re the best fighter I know, Jyn! You don’t kriffing need to practice!” 

Oh, that’s a lie if she ever heard one. Jyn huffs out a chuckle, but it’s far from amused – more self-deprecating, if anything. “Right. Okay.” 

He looks at her, eyebrows narrowed. “What are you going on about now?” 

Never one to pull her punches and tired of this dance they’re doing, she states bluntly, “If I’m the best fighter you know, then why am I not going with you tomorrow?” 

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Then he lets out a relieved chuckle – which only makes her more pissed off. “Is that what this is about? Me not choosing you? Jyn, it’s just one mission. I’ll be back in two days.” 

Oh, that hurts. Hurts more than a broken bone or a blaster wound or a punch to the stomach. 

Her eyes burn and she turns away from him, not wanting him to see. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.” 

“Jyn, what – “ 

“Go away, Cassian. Just – I want to be alone right now.” 

“Jyn, hey, no – “ he steps forward and catches her arm, but she jerks away as soon as he does. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t…I don’t really understand why you’re upset. We’ve run missions apart before.” 

They have, but not recently. Not when they’ve gotten close. She doesn’t know how to define whatever it is between them, but for the past few weeks, it’s been the two of them against the world. 

Now that she’s not at his side, she feels a bit lost. Untethered. 

“You don’t want me with you,” she grits out, words stilted and lurching. “If you did, you would be taking me. So there must be something wrong. With me. That’s why.” 

“Jyn,” he says quietly. “Do you really think I could ever replace you?”

Her silence is the answer to that. 

Cassian doesn’t try to touch her again, but he takes another step forward. “I didn’t pick you because I needed someone more…ah, _diplomatic_. We’re going to spend the time talking to Imperial officials that we can’t afford to lose as informants.” 

She scowls. “I could do that.” Though it’s unlikely she’d be able to get through it without throwing a punch. 

He shifts, uncomfortable. “The nature of what we’re talking about…it’s classified, but trust me when I say it would be better if you didn’t – well. You have to trust me.” 

“You can’t tell me?” 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

She doesn’t know what kind of information he’s going to be encountering on this mission, but if he says it’s bad…

Though she doesn’t trust him fully (it’s too soon for that), she nods jerkily. “All right.” It isn’t, but it’s going to have to be. 

“You trust me?” He blinks, looking incredulous.

At that, she shrugs, humming noncommittally. “Trust goes both ways, right?” 

(She’ll be slicing into his files later.) 

“I…” he pauses, not sure what to say. “I promise this isn’t permanent. You’ll be on the next one with me. Like I said: I couldn’t ever replace you. You’re my partner.” 

His words make her insides warm, making it extremely difficult for her to keep her face neutral. Despite everything, it’s a nice sentiment. A part of her almost believes him. A part of her _does_ believe him. 

“I should get going,” he says, glancing up. Knowing better than to tell her to go to the medbay, he adds, “Wrap your hands, would you?” 

“Yes, sir,” she replies sarcastically, throwing in a salute at the end. He snorts, then turns on his heel and walks off, leaving her in the silence of the gym. 

After a beat of hesitation, she steps forward and grabs the proper wrappings. 


	13. “don’t you think for one second that I didn’t care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [leaiorganas](leaiorganas.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who asked, "Hello! If you are still taking prompts - “Don’t you think for one second that I didn’t care.” Angst is fine by me, whatever works best for you :) thank you!"

It’s the sound of beeping that wakes Cassian up, slicing through the peaceful darkness and shoving him into wakefulness. His head _aches_ , a sharp staccato beating at his left temple. Groaning, he blinks away the crust that had formed on his eyelids while he’d slept, the medbay blearily coming into view after a few seconds. 

Though he recognizes Hoth’s medical wing, he still takes stock of his surroundings, just in case. White walls, curtains sectioning off his bed from the rest of the room, heavy blankets pulled up over his legs to keep him warm. There’s an IV sticking out of the back of his hand attached to a stand at his left. Injury-wise, he suspects that he has a concussion – the pain in his skull, the gaps in his memory, and the dimmed lighting would explain that. And to his right…

To his right, Jyn rests slumped over in a chair, looking uncomfortable as she dozes. 

To be honest, he’s surprised to see her. While they’d been close after Scarif (codependent, some called it – not like he minded), she’s been drifting away from him these past few weeks. He doesn’t understand why, doesn’t have an explanation for her sudden frosty behavior. 

He may be a lot of things, but he’s not an idiot. Out of all of their friends, she’s only been avoiding him. They used to sit together at meals every day, now she takes her food elsewhere. They used to spar together, but now she prefers to take her frustration out on a punching bag. He knows the problem must be with him, but he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it. 

Eventually, he’d stopped trying. It hurt too much to continue chasing after a person who wanted nothing to do with him. 

(It _still_ hurts. It hasn’t stopped. Whenever he sees her now, it feels as if his chest is caving in. She has so much of an influence on him, but it’s clear he meanings _nothing_ to her.) 

Cassian shifts, turning his head slightly to squint at her through the darkness. She looks – well, to him, she always looks good – but she doesn’t look healthy. There’s dark circles underneath her eyes that he can see even from a good number of feet away, and her posture looks defeated, broken. Never has he seen her looking like that, not even after the Council had told her they wouldn’t be sending troops to Scarif. 

“Jyn?” he rasps, throat sore from lack of hydration. “Jyn.” 

She startles awake, almost falling out of her chair. One hand unconsciously reaches for her blaster on her thigh holster before she realizes where she is. Immediately, the tension releases from her body as she relaxes. 

(Once, she’d told him that she feels safe with him. He wonders if that still applies.)  

“Cassian,” she replies, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. She leans forward, but doesn’t come to him. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” he answers reflexively, but at her unimpressed look he adds, “Sore. My head hurts.” 

“I bet.” 

His tongue darts out to wet his cracked lips. She doesn’t offer him any other information, but he doesn’t need it. What happened on the mission is already startling to trickle back. He’d been hit in the temple with the butt of a blaster and Kay had dragged him back to the ship. He doesn’t remember much after that, but it’s easy to fill in the blanks with assumptions. 

What he doesn’t remember is Jyn. She hadn’t been on the mission, so why is she here now? 

He turns back to her, only to find that she’s staring at him with an intense gaze. What does she want from him? Surely visiting him here had just been out of guilt, to make sure that he isn’t going to die. Even though he hasn’t seen much of her lately, he could never say she doesn’t care. 

He sighs, and says the inevitable. “I’m fine, Jyn. You can go now – I’ll be okay.” 

Jyn blinks. “Do you want me to go?” 

“Well, no, but I – “ 

“Then I won’t go.” 

Cassian makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, wishing that he could sit up and look at her properly. Whatever she’s doing is only going to hurt him more – if she stays and leaves him again right after – and for his own sake, he’d rather she doesn’t. 

“I don’t get it,” he says sharply, causing her head to jerk up at his tone. “We haven’t talked in weeks, Jyn. I don’t know why you’re here, pretending to give a shit about me – “ 

“Don’t,” she snarls out, cutting him off. “Don’t you think for one second that I didn’t – that I _don’t_ care.”

Her intensity leaves him reeling. He _had_ been thinking that – she hasn’t given him a reason not to. 

“What did I do?” he asks desperately, not sure how else to respond to what she’s presented him with. “If you tell me, then I can fix this.” 

_I miss you,_ is what goes unsaid. 

“What have you – you haven’t done _anything_ , Cassian. It’s me.” 

That, for some reason, makes him angry. All this time, he’s been wallowing in his own sadness trying to figure out what he’s done wrong and she can’t even give him a proper answer? It’s not you, it’s me? _Stars._

“So you’ve been taking out on me, then? Is that it?” 

“I was scared!” she nearly shouts, standing up from her chair and sending it clattering backwards. Her chest heaves with each breath she takes. “I was kriffing _scared_ , okay? So I couldn’t…” 

One look at her tells him he won’t be getting anymore answers from her. She looks wild, looks like there’s a storm trapped beneath her skin. Instead of asking whys he’s scared (he has his suspicions), he scoots all the way over on his bed and opens his right arm in a silent invitation. 

For a second, he thinks she’s not going to accept it, but she does. Gingerly, Jyn curls up on the bed next to him, shoving her face between his shoulder and neck, taking deep and shuddering breaths. 

Having her so close with fresh injuries probably isn’t the best idea, but he doesn’t care about the pain. He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. “I missed you,” he whispers, not expecting a reply but feeling one breathed out over his collarbone. 

With her at his side, Cassian’s able to sink into a more peaceful, content slumber. 


	14. "you can scream if you want.” - part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [jyner-sew](https://jyner-sew.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who asked: "#22 "You can scream if you want.” for the writing prompts for rebelcaptain??? plz? i'm all aboard for angst if you are :)"

“You can scream if you want,” Jyn says offhandedly, even though she knows he’s not one to yell or break things in his anger. That’s _her_. “Punch a wall or whatever. If it makes you feel better.” 

Cassian doesn’t follow any of her suggestions. Instead, he just looks at her with dead, tired eyes. All the fire and spark she’s so used to seeing is just _gone_. 

( _because of her._ )

Gritting her teeth, she tries again. “Come on, Cass. I _know_ you’re upset, but it’s not going to get better if we don’t talk about it. Just – do something, and then we’ll figure it out.” 

That’s rich, especially coming from her. Avoiding the issue is usually what she does best, but she knows now that if this isn’t spoken out loud, nothing will be the same between them. 

( _she fears that they’re too far gone already._ )  

“Don’t call me that.”  

She hadn’t been expecting to hear his voice, so used to the uncomfortable silence hovering around them. It shocks her enough that she doesn’t even hear what he said. “What?” 

“Don’t call me Cass,” he snaps back. “You lost that privilege when you _left_ me.”

Ah, there it is. That anger she’d wanted from him, what she’d been asking him for all this time.

So why does it hurt so much to hear her sins being said into the air?  

This conversation isn’t about her problems; she doesn’t want to make it all about her, not when he’s hurting, too. Later, once she’s fixed what’s between them and he’s let down his walls again, she can explain her side of the story and what had been going on in her mind. 

“All right,” she swallows, feeling uncomfortably formal. In any other situation, she would have left by now, not wanting to put herself through the pain she’s about to feel. He’s different, though. She _wants_ to fight for him. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” 

His eyes flash. “You won’t call me that again or leave me?” 

There’s a lump in her throat. Her fingers lace together behind her back and she rocks on her heels. “I meant the first one, but – both. I promise I won’t leave again. I know you probably don’t trust a word I’m saying right now – “ 

“I don’t.” 

“And that’s _fine,_ ” she tries to stress, but her voice cracks on the last note. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll show you how serious I am about this.” 

He looks…defeated. As if she’s sapped the last of his life from him, drained him completely in that week she’d ran away from him. Days spent in the slums of Coruscant – mostly drunk and picking fights with ‘troopers and strangers alike – had forced her into that mindset. She hadn’t realized what she’d been missing until it was gone. 

And while she hadn’t expected Cassian to be happy with her absence, she hadn’t expected this. Anger, yes, but also understanding. Now it seems like he doesn’t want anything to do with her. 

 _You told me you loved me!_ she wants to yell at him, to shake him by the shoulders. _Is that no longer the case? Do you not love me anymore because of one mistake?_

_I was scared. I still am._

“I should get going,” he says abruptly, turning toward the door and hiding his expressionless face from her. The invisible wall in between them is so thick, so impenetrable that Jyn fears it’ll never be breached again. 

“I’ll swing by your room later?” she offers, a tentative smile on her lips. “We could work on the debrief together, if you’d like – “

“Don’t bother.” With that, he shuts the door behind him, leaving her like she’d left him. The abruptness of it stings. 

Though she knows the wound is still fresh for him, a wave of sheer hopelessness washes over her. He needs time, she tells herself, but struggles to believe even what her rational brain tells her. 

Alone in the darkness of her room, Jyn chokes on a sob. 


	15. "you can scream it you want." - part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the sequel to the last chapter as highly requested! thank you all for your continuous support!

True to her word, Jyn comes to his quarters that night. She doesn’t try to splice her way in like she normally would; instead, she stands outside and knocks, making it clear that it’s his choice whether or not she comes in. 

Cassian lets her in. He doesn’t know why – maybe he’s a bit of a masochist.  

“Hey, Cassian,” she greets tentatively, to which he doesn’t respond. The lack of reply doesn’t seem to deter her – she perches on the corner of his bed and pulls out her data pad, the bright light illuminating her face in the dimness of his room. “Thanks for letting me in.” 

He doesn’t move from the door, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her. His brows furrow in confusion – what the hell is she doing? No comments, no pleas for him to listen and forgive her? As far as he can tell, she’s not in any way bothered by the angry gaze he’s leveling her way. 

Even seeing her face hurts. There, right in front of him, is both the woman he loves and the one who had hurt him. The one who he’d thought he’d lost and the one who’d come back. Turns out she had abandoned him because she’d been scared, but that doesn’t eliminate the hurt he’s been experiencing ever since her disappearance. Stars, his heart clenches even at the memory. 

Eventually, the silence gets to him. “What are you doing here, Jyn?” 

She glances up, hesitation in her eyes. She is many things, but never hesitant, never tentative, never not confident in herself. “I’m working on the debrief,” she hedges. “We gotta have it in by tomorrow.” 

“Kriff the debrief!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t care if it _ever_ gets done! I want to know why you’re here _now._  I want to know why you’re even karking _bothering_.” 

A pause. She sets the data pad off to the side and folds her hands in her lap. “You won’t believe my words, so I thought I would show you that I meant what I said earlier.” 

“Coming to my room for one night doesn’t mean shit,” he sneers. 

“Well, I’m going to keep coming back,” she replies, tilting her chin up. “I’ll keep coming back until you believe me and then I’ll stay. For good this time.”  

Those are big words, especially coming from her. She’s never needed to say them before – but then again, she’s never left him, either. Surely she’ll give up when it gets too tough; he doesn’t plan on thawing quickly, maybe not at all. He shakes his head, scoffing. 

“Cassian, I love you.” 

Shaken out of his thoughts, he turns his full attention back to her. Her jaw sets in that stubborn way that he loves, eyes blazing. Her sentiment catches him off-guard – Jyn has _always_ had problems admitting her feelings out loud for him. He’s always been understanding of this issue, but he suspects that she’s using it against him, to butter him up a little bit. She’s sneaky, cunning, uses all the tricks up her sleeves…and he loves her for it. 

The trick works. He always melts when she tells him that. 

“I know I have a lot to prove to you,” she continues, now talking to the floor. “But I _need_ you to give me a chance, okay? I love you _so karking much,_ and if you shut me out, I can’t prove it to you and I want to make this right between us. You understand, yeah?” 

A beat. Then, a shrug combined with simple words. “Okay.” 

Her head shoots up, eyes wide. Disbelief passes through her gaze. “What?” 

“I said ‘okay,’” he repeats, taking a tentative step forward and then sitting on the bed next to her. There’s still a good couple feet between them, but they’re sitting by each other. That’s a start. “I’ll give you time.” 

She leans toward him, likely eager to curl up in his arms, but he holds up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “I said I’ll let you prove it. I haven’t forgiven you yet.” 

She sighs, the exhale a shuddering breath. “Right,” she says, swallowing. Disappointment is written all over her face but she does a good job of hiding it; he hates to see her like this, but his hurt won’t be erased because of one conversation and an exchange of feelings. “Sorry. I – uh. You want to work on the debrief?” 

“I would like that,” he admits, holding out a hand. “Can I see what you’ve gotten done so far?” 

She hands him her data pad with a small smile. Something unfurls in his chest, small and vaguely hopeful. 

This isn’t much, but it progress. He’ll take what he can get.


	16. “what did you expect?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for [leaiorganas](leaiorganas.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who asked: "Aaah, for the angst prompts! For whenever you feel up to it or something inspires you: #69 “What do you want me to say?” or #75 “What did you expect?” xoxo"

_“What did you expect?”_ she asks, half-hysterical and slightly tipsy, shoving her clothes into her pack with an even greater desperation now that Cassian’s entered the room. “What did you expect from me, Cassian? Tell me! _What_ did you expect?” 

He holds his hands out in front of him, soothing noises in the back of his throat. This doesn’t happen too often anymore, but defusing these situations is second nature, his body moving before his mind catches up. These attacks had been happening ever since Scarif; often, alcohol tends to be the trigger, especially when he’s on a mission and she’s by herself. 

The last mission he’d been on had gone longer than expected. He knows Jyn worries when she doesn’t hear from him every couple days, but he’d been in too deep to risk transmission. Now that he’s back, two weeks later than he should have been, he suspects that’s where these insecurities stem from. With a little bit of booze, her mind has told her that he’d abandoned her. 

“If you are leaving,” he says gently. Many of the insults and words she spits when she’s like this have no meaning to them. She’s speaking out of fear, the trauma of her past overcoming the logical parts of her brain. He knows this – he doesn’t blame her for it, will _never_ blame her for it. “I expect you to at least say goodbye before you go.” 

“Goodbye, then,” she snarls, slamming the closet door shut. The echo of the bang resounds through the quiet room. She shoulders her pack and tries to move around him, but he stands firm in front of the door, determined not to let her leave until she’s calmed down a bit more. If she still wants to go once she’s thinking rationally, he’ll let her. “Would you move? I did what you expected – aren’t you happy?” 

“How am I supposed to be happy when you’re trying to leave me?” he asks frankly. “I don’t want you to go.” 

“That’s what they all say,” she mutters, trying again to dart past him and reach for the lock. “Nobody wants to leave me until they do.” 

“I’m not going to leave you, Jyn,” he replies carefully, holding up a hand when she opens her mouth to interrupt. “I know you don’t believe me now. That’s all right. You just have to stick around long enough for me to prove it to you, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

She narrows her eyes, anger warping her features but there’s a hint of sadness to it, too. Looking closer, he can see the shimmer of tears in her eyes, how her shoulders hunch defensively, the lack of rebellious spark in posture. She looks – she looks _defeated,_ letting her past and memories beat her down into the ghost of the woman he loves. 

His hands curl into fists. If they were still alive, he’d have a few choice words for her parents and Saw and everyone that had left her after. 

“Bodhi’s waiting for me,” she deflects, not looking him in the eye. “I told him I’d be at his shuttle by now.” 

That has his eyebrows raising. “Bodhi is helping you?”  

“Yes.” Her lips twitch almost imperceptibly, invisible to anyone except him. He knows her well enough to see right through her, to know that she’s lying. Bodhi would be heartbroken if he even suspected that she was trying to leave them. 

“Bodhi can wait a few more minutes, hmm? If you’re that worried, I can send him a message and tell him it’s my fault you’re late.” 

She frowns, then shakes her head slowly. Slowly, she tells him, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“No? All right. I won’t.” Cautiously, he takes a step forward into the room, letting out a relieved breath when Jyn doesn’t make another break for the door. “Will you tell me why you’re leaving?” 

“Why do you care?” 

That hurts, slicing right through his chest like a vibrobrade slipping between his ribs. “I care because I love you,” he whispers, voice breaking at the end. “I love you, Jyn. You know that – I _know_ you know that.” 

Those words have her shoulders sagging. “I know you believe that you do – “ 

“I do, Jyn, I – “ He shakes his head, hands hovering in the air between them. “Can I touch you?” 

She turns her head to the side, pressing her chin to her shoulder and shrugs the other one. Her face is blank, cold, completely uncaring, but he can see right through the cracks in her façade. “If you want.” 

“Do _you_ want me to?” he presses. 

She pauses, opens her mouth, then slowly shakes her head. Relieved that she’s finally telling the truth, he lets his hands fall to his side and nods. “Then I won’t.” 

For a few seconds, they’re at an impasse; he stands in front of the door and she lingers in front of him, one hand on her pack and eyes determinedly gazing downwards. It’s clear that she’s not going to speak unless prompted, so he offers, “Will you sit with me on the bed?” 

His words have an unexpected consequence. As he moves to where his bunk is, she whirls around and explodes. “Why are you trying to get me to stay? What’s the point – you’re, you’re just going to leave later, so let me go first! _Why won’t you let me leave first?_ ”

“Let’s make a deal,” he says instead, not rising up to meet her bait. “Next time I’m not going to be able to make it back on time, I’ll send you a message to let you know.” 

Finally, she glances up at him, chewing her lip. “Why the hell would you risk your cover for me?” 

It’s simple. He shrugs one shoulder. “Because I love you. If telling you that I’m going to be gone a little longer helps you believe I’m not leaving you, then that’s what I need to do. Okay?” 

“I still don’t believe you,” she admits, but lets her pack drop from her shoulder and onto the ground. 

“You don’t have to,” he tells her, a hint of a smile on his face. He sinks to the bed, pats the spot next to him. “Do you want me to stay here with you tonight? I can always room with Kes if you don’t.” 

A pause, then she rasps, “You can stay.” 

He nods. “If you still want to leave, you can do it in the morning. Just – just stay for tonight, hmm? Promise me you’ll do that?” 

She nods slowly. “I’ll stay.” 

He waits, letting her make her way to him in her own time. It pays off; a few minutes later, Jyn gingerly sits next to him, a few feet separating them. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t be,” he tells her honestly. “I know it’s hard. I get it, Jyn. Really, I do.” 

“You deserve someone better. You shouldn’t have to deal with me. With this.” 

Something burns inside of him. He hates when she talks like this, self-deprecating and horribly honest. It’s what she thinks about herself, not matter how hard he tries to change her mind. He wants to argue with her, to try and convince her with heated declarations, but that’s not what she needs right now; she’ll only bark back with more reasons why he should leave her if he says anything about it. 

Instead, he places his hand between them, palm up. An offer, an invitation for her to touch him if she wants. “Like I said, Jyn – I love you. I’m not going to leave you, not tonight, not ever.” 

He doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence together before he feels her skin against his, her hand tentatively touching his and then curling their fingers together, interlocked, holding each other. 

For the first time that night, Cassian truly smiles. 


	17. “Please don’t do this.” + “I won’t let you.” & “I won’t lose you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for an anon on tumblr, who prompted: "34 combined with either 10 or 94? (or both if you can make it work) for rebelcaptain please :)"
> 
> 34\. “Please don’t do this.”  
> 10\. “I won’t let you.”  
> 94\. “I won’t lose you too.”

The medbay has long gone silent; the only sounds permeating the quiet are the hum of machines, the beeping of the heart rate monitor, and Jyn’s fervent whispered words. 

“I’m not going to let you die, okay?” she murmurs to him, both hands curling around his, gripping it tightly like a lifeline. He doesn’t react to her touch nor her words; she isn’t foolish enough to believe that _she_ would be catalyst to wake him out of his coma, but a small part of her had hoped. “I won’t let you die. Not you. Not for me.” 

(When she’d been a child, her mother had read to her out of this big book of fairytales. True love had often been the answer to many of the protagonists problems; it’s the thing that breaks curses and saves the day. 

But when Jyn presses her lips to the back of his hand, his palm, his un-bandaged fingers, nothing happens.)

All day she’s been in here, ever since their ship had docked, ever since he’s gone into surgery. His blood has dried on her shirt and pants; she’d begrudging separated from him earlier to wash it off her skin, but her palms are still tinged red, unable to get the toughest stains out of her hands. 

Every time she closes her eyes, the memory replays in her mind. The quirk of her lips as she makes some stupid joke to him because she wants to see him smile, her inability to hear the blaster going off behind her, the way he tackles her to the ground and protects her with his body, firing his blaster and knocking down the stormtrooper for good. She’d been an idiot, thinking that all the ‘troopers were dead just because they were on the ground – too hopped-up on adrenaline and relief that they’d both made it out unharmed. 

Until they hadn’t. 

Until she had to roll Cassian’s prone off of her, until she felt his life literally bleed out of the wound on his chest, until she thought he’d _died_ – until she’d felt the barest whisper of a pulse underneath her fingertips. 

 

_“Shit, that was a close one,” she manages, head thudding back against the concrete. “Fucker would have gotten me right in the – Cassian?”_

_Silence. Terrible, cold silence. He lays on top of her without moving, without getting up like he normally would. It’s only now that she feels warmth on her chest, on her stomach, too familiar to be anything else except blood._

_“No, no no no no no – “ she whispers, unbelieving as she scrambles out from underneath his body, adjusting him to his back. “No, no, no – ! No! Not you, too. I can’t – Cassian!”  
_

_Her bloody hands go everywhere, cupping his face, marking his pale skin with red. They smooth down his shoulders, finding the wound on his chest – not at his heart, but too close, close enough where a shot can still ring true. She presses down on it, hard, her vision obscured by the tears in her eyes. She can barely see him_

_“Please, no, please don’t do this to me, Cassian,” she sobs, trembling fingers reaching for his neck but knowing there probably isn’t anything there, she can’t feel his breath against cheek as she leans over him. “I won’t lose you, too. Not like – like everyone else, I’ve lost everyone else except you, I can’t lose you, I can’t, I love you, I love you. Please…”  
_

_A glimmer of hope when she feels the faintest of pulse underneath his jaw. A beat, a pause, and then another. He’s alive, but just barely; they need to go_ now _if he’s going to make it through._

_He’s so much bigger than her that she can’t carry him without aggravating his wound. With a grunt, she hauls him up over her shoulder, praying that this doesn’t make his condition worse. His weight strains at her bad hip, but she doesn’t care, doesn’t give a shit, would gladly go through agonizing pain just so he survives._

Please, _she prays as she runs back to their ship. She doesn’t know if anyone’s listening, but she has to try._ I just found him. Please don’t take him away from me now. I need him to live.

_All the while, Cassian’s heart beats weakly._

Her head is bowed, forehead pressing against his arm as she struggles not to cry over him. From where she’s sitting, it places a strain on her neck, but she doesn’t dare move. Even though she knows she’ll be sore tomorrow, she doesn’t move. 

 _He’s alive,_ she reminds herself, tasting salt on her lips. _He’s alive._

“I won’t lose you,” she repeats again, lips moving against his skin. “You’re not going to die here.  _I won’t kriffing let you!_ ” 

Underneath her grip, his finger twitches. It just makes her cry harder, only this time out of relief. 

_Thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to send prompts to me on tumblr @[jynirso](https://jynirso.tumblr.com) or leave a comment if you want to see something in particular!


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